Happy Tabaski!

Along with every other Muslim family in Senegal, my family celebrated Tabaski on Wednesday. I could tell the night before that people were getting excited; loud music and spontaneous gatherings in the street continued until the wee hours of the morning. When I awoke on Wednesday, my mom and our maid were already busy cleaning every visible surface of our courtyard as our sheep eyed them suspiciously.

Around 9:30 am morning my brothers and my uncle headed to the mosque down the street to congregate with the other neighborhood men. They said their Tabaski prayers and when they returned it was time for the big event. My brothers gave our sheep its last bath, and then a local religious leader (or Imam) came to our house to slit the sheep's throat. The sheep was laid down on its side, with its head placed over a hole in the ground for the blood to drain into. I remember thinking last year that it would be extremely difficult to watch, let alone listen to, and I had assumed the sheep would struggle immensely. However, the process is actually very quick and calm. After its throat is cut open, the sheep dies within 1 or 2 minutes without making a sound, so it appears they don't suffer much (although it's still kind of gross to look at). And in case you are wondering, part of the honor of being a Tabaski sheep is getting a one way ticket straight into sheep heaven. So I'm sure our sheep (alias: Barack Obama) is somewhere up there at this very moment.

I could only stick around to watch a few minutes of all of the sheep killing and follow-up slaughtering business. Normally, I don't have a weak stomach, but I have been severely ill the last 2 days, so the queasiness set in fairly quickly. I spent the rest of the morning avoiding looking at the pile of various meat parts and offering help to my mom which she politely refused. I'm not sure if she was taking it easy on me because she knew I was sick or if I'm just not a good potato peeler. Perhaps a little of both.

Around 1pm we had what I like to call "Tabaski snack." The very first parts of the sheep that are eaten are the liver, kidneys and the ribs. They are cooked over a small open fire exactly like barbecue and slathered with spicy onion sauce and mustard. My brothers immediately pounced on the kidneys (I was happy to oblige them) and we ate a giant pile of ribs as a family. My stomach didn't allow me to eat much but I enjoyed spending time with my family and chatting about their Tabaski plans.

"Lunch" was served at around 4 pm; various cuts of mutton covered in onion sauce and fries and served with bread. I was able to eat barely any of it, but from what I could tell it was delicious: way to go mom! I feel really guilty about being not helping or participating more, but there's only so much I can take when everything makes me feel nauseous. I bought my family several liters of soda for after lunch in hopes they don't think I'm too much of a bum.

Since I wasn't feeling so great and my mom was utterly exhausted after cooking all day, we collectively decided that we would post-pone the new Tabaski clothes until the following night. I was 100% okay with that and made a bee line straight for my bed where I promptly slept for 11 hours.

The following day - Thursday - was just a normal day until later in the evening when my mom revealed her new orange boubou. This was my cue to change into my own clothes, and after fighting with the zipper for 10 minutes, I finally marched out. My family and I took lots of pictures (mostly of my mom) and then my brother and I went for a walk around Pout.

I think that night I had one of those moments when I realized "Wow...I am really going to miss this person when I leave here." My brother Moussa and I have become really close since I've moved here, and because he is close to my age and speaks really good English I'm able to communicate with him much better than other family members. He literally brought tears to my eyes, telling me that I'm the best "sister" he'll ever have and that he already dreads the thought of me going back to the States. It truly made me feel part of something, and since he really is the closest thing I'll ever have to a sibling, it's comforting to know we're on the same page.

After a leisurely walk with Moussa, I was then dragged around the neighborhood with the mom, practically falling asleep at each house. I swear, that women is the world's biggest social butterfly. I finally convinced her that sleep was necessary since I was getting up at 6 to head to Dakar. She relented and I ended my Tabaski night #2 by fighting with a zipper.

Yesterday I was up and out of my house super early. I went into Thies to pay my internet bill and then caught a car to Dakar. After spending some time at the Peace Corps office studying for the GRE, I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing poolside and playing volleyball with friends, trying not to think about the impending test. This morning I was up early again and headed to the testing center with my friend Ian to battle the GRE. While it didn't go as well as I had hoped it would, I'll just wait for the results in the mail to ascertain whether or not it was a success. I'm just glad it's over! Obviously we celebrated with beers afterwards.

Tonight I'm back in Pout and then tomorrow I'm off to Thies for a 3 day French language training. My French skills have taken a nose dive, so I'm taking a refresher course with a few other volunteers and a Peace Corps language instructor. The fun never stops:)

Until next time...